Face in the End
by LadyPiratte
Summary: It's the end and the magic word is 'yes. Dean and Sam Winchester struggle to come to grips with what their futures just might entail: the final, epic battle. A new player enters, and it isn't clear whose side she's on.
1. Prologue

_**PROLOGUE: BACK TO THE SUNRISE**_

Lucy sat straight up, staring at the empty wall of her room in her parents' basement. She was covered in a cold sweat and her hands were shaking so hard that she put them between her knees to stop them. It took her a moment to catch her bearings, looking systematically from one spot of her room to another, taking inventory. There was her dresser, worn and used from her days in high school and the black and white pictures she took while she was studying abroad in Paris.

By the time she got to the far corner, the one nearest her bed, a blurry figure was leaning there. Nothing about the figure seemed solid, except that Lucy knew that the figure was female. She knew it because it was the same figure that had haunted her dreams for the past three months. Lucy bit her lip.

"They're getting closer. It's only a matter of time before they find your parents."

A few long moments and Lucy couldn't take it anymore. Three months of no sleep and constant battlefields were she desperately tried to find higher ground. She was tired of fighting it. What was the point anymore? "Alright. Fine. I give up. Just… My parents are good people. Ya know, they went to church. I don't want to see them die. Just because I never did, never believed doesn't mean that… Promise me."

"Lucy, I'm not evil." The blurry woman moved forward. "I swear to you, promise you, vow to you, that they will be safe and the moment that they are not? I will bring you back to them and smite whatever threatens them. You're right. They're good people. They deserve to live through this war."

Lucy could feel the sting that told her the tears were coming. She climbed out of bed and went to her childhood dresser. If she was going to do this, give up her soul to this creature, she wasn't going to do it in a pair of her ex boyfriend's boxers and a tank top. Lucy had some dignity in her resignation, which even to her, seemed odd.

She put on a pair of dark jeans, a loose fitting t-shirt and pulled her light brown hair into a messy ponytail. Lucy even put on her favorite jewelry. When she was finished, she turned toward the blurred figure, who'd stood there the whole time patiently.

Panic gripped her. Nothing would ever be the same. She didn't know if she was going to die or if she'd just slip into unconsciousness. There was no way to tell what would happen to her exactly. It was terrifying. So she stalled. "The sunrise. Can I at least see the sunrise?"

The figure nodded. Lucy led the way up the carpeted stairs and out the backdoor of her parents' home. The sun was just coming up over the flat horizon. A mist was on the ground and the air had a bite to it. There was something magical that made Lucy wish she could hang on forever. If she could just stay there, with the sun and the mist and the cold, Lucy would never ask for another thing.

"Okay. Let's do it." Lucy turned her back to the view. "Yes. I give you permission, Phanuel."


	2. One

**ONE**: **The right answer**

Light erupted from the demon and then the former high school basketball star collapse to the ground. Phanuel stood over him, a slightly downward grimace to her young, pretty face. She had hoped that the demon would provide her some valuable information but in the end, he had just been like every other demon. The archangel had little patience for the low level demon that thought he could outsmart her. The ease of the whole thing had been so disappointing. Where was the challenge?

For a split second, Phanuel almost thought that she'd been called down to Earth for no reason. She wouldn't put it pass her brethren to overreact, the paranoid lot of them. Just look at Gabriel? Defected before there was even a problem.

But the names rattling around in her head were any indication; Phanuel was starting to feel a little desperate and worried herself. All the chatter was Samuel Winchester this or Dean Winchester that. It was driving her mad. She had other thoughts in her head and they didn't include the chosen vessels of her closest brothers, not one hundred percent. They were just part of the equation.

Her brethren had forgotten the other part of the equation: Michael and Lucifer. The individuals she cared about more than the human vessels.

She walked out of the boy's locker room at the local high school and transported herself to a long empty stretch of highway. The grass was to her ankles, wet and that irked her. Whatever might be said about her and her kind, Phanuel did care about Lucy. The girl was her vessel and over the months that she'd haunted the college girl's dreams, Phanuel had learned to respect her. If she could, Phanuel was happy to return her to her normal life, but she doubted that either of them would live through the war. They were going to die together.

Heading off down the stretch of road, she spun the ring that Lucy had worn around her finger absently. Her eyes were far away, listening to her brethren and deciphering their messages, skimming for the important information. Most of it was positioning, strategic chatter. Now and then one of her brethren would hint at something that might be useful, but for the most part Phanuel was rather bored by it all.

Her brethren were so caught up in their own battles or finding vessels, that they were forgetting the bigger picture. People, millions would die. Her brothers would die. It seemed so trivial to be preoccupied with useless information.

Tuning them out, she grew tired of walking and in a blink, found herself at the entrance of a rather sleazy looking motel. The paint was chipping in places and the sign only have half its letters lit up. For a long time she just stood there before a couple, one a very elderly man and a rather young woman, stumbled up and found the lobby. A cock of her head and Phanuel followed after, listening and watching as they found themselves a room.

Over their shoulder, she tried to get a peek at the registry until the man behind the desk pointedly pulled it back and snapped it shut. Phanuel's eyes narrowed. With the door's bell telling her that she was alone with the desk-man, she smiled at him. "I would sit down."

"I don't –"

Phanuel touched his temple and his head hit the desk as he went down, hard. "I told you." She walked around the desk and dragged the registry book out from under his unconscious form. He smelled of something rotten, making her nose wrinkle. For a moment, Phanuel contemplated dropping him in a bath tub with soap as a favor, but just as she was about do make it happen, her eyes caught something else. Bingo.

* * *

"Hello, Dean," Phanuel greeted politely as a tall man came through the motel room door. Behind him came his tall brother, the unfortunate soul. She passed Dean and gave Sam a sympathetic smile. "Samuel." Her hand went to his temple and the youngest Winchester slumped into his brother's arm. Without taking his eyes off of her, Dean lowered his brother to the ground.

"What the hell?"

"We need to talk." She still stared at the man destined to be her fallen brother. It was a fate she'd never have wished on anyone. Poor Samuel Winchester, the only one who had ever prayed, and yet, Phanuel couldn't help but fight the desire to kill him at her feet. Or run. She had a strong feeling she should flee from him.

Dean's snort drew her attention. He was lumbering over to the motel bed. "So talk. Can't imagine you have anything new to say, but why not?"

"I want to stress the importance of your role. I want you to –"

"What? Say yes? Don't you sons of bitches talk?" He spun on her, like a cornered wolverine that reminded Phanuel of her brother.

His confrontation made her take a step back. "Dean," she began slowly, "I don't think you understand who you are speaking with."

A crooked smile came to his face, laced with a sort of anger. "An angel of the Lord, right? The new car smell has worn off."

Phanuel was a patient individual, more so than many of her brethren, but even her patience worn thin. Disrespect was something she did not tolerate, not from Gabriel, not from Michael and not from Dean Winchester.

She walked toward him, her young face grim, unaware that her small frame hardly seemed imposing." Only half right, human. I'm an archangel. I'm sure you've heard of us. My name is Phanuel, not exactly the name you hear everyday but you will understand that Zachariah was a small fish compared to me."

Dean assessed for a long moment. He didn't move from his spot, just crossed his arms. "The answer is still no."

A tired expression came to her face and melted her body. "Oh, I know. It was close, but I know."

"So what then?"

The weight of the war fell on her shoulders then and she chose to seat herself on the stiff motel bed that was Sam's. Her gaze went back to the boy on the floor. "Do you understand what it's like? To be a middle child? No. I don't suppose you do. Michael never did."

Dean dropped his arms and went to the little table were a fifth of Jameson waited for him. "I've heard the sob stories."

"Shut up, human." Her tone stopped the glass from reaching his lips. "I love my brothers. Every single one of them. I'd prefer none of them die." Her face scrunched in disgust. "Even Lucifer. But Michael, Gabe, all of them are a little hard headed. They'll end up killing each other and I'll just be standing there, watching and helpless. I don't want any of them to die. Dean Winchester, I want there to be another way. I even applaud your efforts to find another way, but you've got to try harder. If you say yes, I watch my brothers kill each other. I watch them die."

"So," he looked at her, half confused, half disbelieving. "You telling me to say no? Won't that get you in trouble from…" Dean pointed up.

"I don't take orders from them. My orders come from someone else." Phanuel told him. She would have told him everything, but there was no need. He didn't need to know.

"You want me to-"

The door slammed open and a man in a trench coat stormed in, a knife in his hands. The minute her gaze went to him, she was on her feet, her own blade in her hands. Before Dean could say a word, the two were engaged, a clash of metal. Phanuel threw Dean against a wall, more for his own good than anything else. Castiel came at her with a well placed swing, but as good a soldier as Castiel had been, he hadn't been trained as she had been. She blocked him easily and got a blade to his throat. "Don't." It was a warning he didn't heed. The trick he used must have been picked up by the humans because he did manage to hit her, hard. Phanuel stumbled back and narrowed her eyes. She was trying to go easy on the lost angel, apparently that wasn't meant to be. As he got closer, she used an old trick, and she spun him against the motel wall beside the door, arms pinned behind him, ever conscious of his blade and her own. "Castiel," she spoke close to his ear, "Relax. I'm not here for the vessel, and Samuel is unharmed."

When she pulled away she dropped her blade, completely stepping back from him. He was no less pleased and Sam was coming around. Dean was getting to his feet. "I was just here to…" She trailed off, going elsewhere. Then panic gripped her. No! She'd promised Lucy.

"We'll have to continue this later." She told them quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Phanuel?"

"Just say no. I'm begging."


	3. Two

**Two: A vow that's broken**

Phanuel appeared infront of the ranch house style home of her vessel. She stalked toward the door and kicked it open with enough force that it flew from the hinges and crashed into the couch. Nothing moved. It was the eerie silence that Phanuel knew too well. The archangel did whatever she could to shield her vessel's consciousness from the inevitable.

Each step she took through the house was a careful one. She went through each room; the living room, the dining room, the kitchen before heading down the hall that led to the master bedroom. Phanuel had a feeling she knew what was going to be in the room. Slipping into the doorway, she saw the bloody scene. Lucy's mother had been killed in her sleep, but her father had struggled. He was on the floor.

Staring at the mess, Phanuel's anger continued to grow. She had vowed, given her word that Lucy's parents would be safe and now? Now someone had made her break her vow. And she'd been negligent. Phanuel had been too busy caught up in her own family affairs that she had forgotten about Lucy's. The guilt and anger were a dangerous mix. She was going to cut the killer into tiny pieces; the demon would never see her coming.

A step on the hard wood of the kitchen made her turn. At the end of the hallway, silhouetted against the evening light was a male figure. "Sariel, if I find that you've had a hand in this…"

"You'd think I'd do such a thing?"

"You've disobeyed before. You've been gone for some time." Phanuel knew her brothers, inside and out. Sariel was her least favorite. Even Raphael she could stand far better than her wayward brother standing before her.

Sariel stepped closer, cautious of her. "I have. I don't deny it." He continued to come toward her and she gave him a warning nod of her head. Sariel stopped, hands in the air in surrender. "I'm just here to deliver a message."

She looked at him carefully. Something was off and she was proven right when he stumbled against the wall. Love for her brother made her rush to his side and only when she was close enough did she see him fully. His beautiful face was marred by gashes and his clothes were blood stained. "Sariel," she breathed his name and followed him to the floor. "What happened?"

To her knowledge, nothing like this had happened. If an angel died, it was nearly instantaneous. There was no long, drawn out suffering. They didn't sit there bleeding. They died in a brilliant flash of light and became a part of something more. Sariel's form, bleeding, broken and unable to heal itself was new; very new.

"Sariel, brother, tell me who did this to you," her voice was quiet, like a child's voice when it was uncertain.

Sariel looked at her and put a hand over her hand. "Belair."

Phanuel went cold. That name was a name she hadn't heard for centuries and she wished she'd never heard it uttered from Sariel's lips. If Belair was here, on Earth, things were going to get much worse. Phanuel had to stop him. If anyone would be charged with that mission, she knew it had to be her. He had been… No, she wouldn't dwell on it. "Are you sure?"

A pained smile danced across his face but never reached his solemn eyes. "I wish I wasn't, sister. I tried to stop… but I was a little late. You know I was never one for punctuality."

Phanuel leaned back against the side of the motel building, arms over her chest and head bowed down. Back at Lucy's parents' house, she'd pulled a cover over her mother and closed her father's eyes, each with a prayer. Lucy would see them again and if Phanuel had anything to say about it, nowhere near the near future. Both vessel and angel had lost family in that house.

"Phanuel." His voice was even but she didn't need to look up at him to know that he was less than pleased to see her again.

"Castiel." She greeted, then pulled her head up.

"Why are you here?"

Sensing why he was asking, Phanuel was quick to dispel his worries. "I'm not here for that, nor would I ever be. I simply wanted to inquire about some information."

Castiel, in his tan trench coat, moved closer her. "Information? About what?"

Phanuel pushed away from the motel wall and paced into the rather empty parking lot, surveying the pavement. She'd been so sure a moment ago what she wanted to ask Castiel about, but now? Phanuel was second guessing herself. She wasn't sure if telling him would put him and the two vessels in danger or if it would give the other side the advantage. In the end, she decided to trust Castiel. Her Lord had trusted Castiel, brought him back into the world, so would she. "About Belair."

"Belair?" If it were possible for Castiel to sound grave, it was then. "You mean-"

"Yes, I mean. I take it you have no information on him then." It was hard not to be disappointed. She had hoped that the vessels or Castiel would have heard something.

Castiel regarded her, judging her most likely, not that she blamed him. "There have been signs."

Her head dropped and she let out a breath. "I figured as much. Listen, Castiel, leave here before he comes."

"He's coming here? When?"

"He goes where I go. It's been decided from the moment I was created. There's no need for you or the vessels to be here."

"Why aren't we needed?" Dean Winchester sauntered up, two large take out bags full and spread wide in a gesture that made him as arrogant as they said he was. Sam followed behind, the drink carrier full and sipping on one.

Phanuel could have done without them, she really could. Her business was angel business, not human and certainly not the vessels of her brothers' business. "Go inside and indulge your stomach's boys." Yes, the tone was patronizing, but she didn't have the time to find some polite remark to him.

Dean stopped, offended. Sam's eyebrows knit together and Castiel shot her a look. "The 'boys' can help."

Phanuel was shocked and rather impressed by Castiel and his sudden ability to fire back at her. "I don't think they can. No offense."

"Help with what?" Sam stepped forward. "If you came to talk to Cas you obviously need some help."

She had three men staring at her, or rather towering over her. Phanuel's vessel, Lucy, wasn't a large individual by any stretch of the imagination. She avoided Dean's gaze, which was threatening to burn a hole through her skull, and could hardly stand to be around Samuel. Instead, she just stared down Castiel. "Do you understand what you will be getting them into?"

"Explain it."

Phanuel let out a deep breath from her nose. She couldn't believe it, she was going to take an order from the likes of Castiel. Swallowing her pride was a lot more difficult than she would have thought. "We should go inside."

They filed in, one by one into the crappy motel room. The boys dumped their food on the table, not even touching it. Castiel stayed by the door, arms crossed and watching her every move. She compared him to a guard dog mentally in her head. Phanuel paced into the room before stopping to stand in the little aisle between the two beds.

"My leaving last time was not my choice. Lucy's, my vessel's parents were in danger and I'd promised her, as part of the deal to grant permission, that I would keep them alive. I failed, and they're dead," she gaze flickered over to Castiel's and held his, "so is Sariel."

Castiel stood straighter, dropping his arms to the side. Dean frowned but it was Sam, who caught the look between Phanuel and Castiel that said something. "Sariel?"

"My brother. One of Michael's brothers."

"An archangel?" Sam's eyebrows went up.

"Yes." Castiel stepped further into the room. "This is why you were asking about Belair."

Dean looked between the two and settled his glare on Phanuel, as if she were holding out on him, which she was and for good reason. "Belair? Who the hell is Belair?"

Phanuel didn't want to tell Dean, or Sam. It was too dangerous for them to know outright, so she decided on a half-truth. "A very powerful demon." She ignored Castiel's narrowed eyes. Let him fume inside. The battle was hers and hers alone and she dictated how it would go.

"A demon? That's it?" Dean looked skeptical.

"A very powerful one, yes." Phanuel reiterated her previous statement. Human caught on so slowly sometimes it was rather irritating.

Sam slid his large frame into a chair, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't think that's all of the story. Why would an archangel be looking for a demon? Even a powerful one. Why don't you send someone else to do it?"

This was where it got a bit tricky. Phanuel hated lies, she was built to hate lies, but if she told them who Belair was and what it meant that he was walking around wearing some poor soul as a face, the archangel was sure it would just break the two of them. She needed them strong and she needed them focused on something other than her issues. "Because it is my task. I'm the one charged with it."

Dean threw his hands up, clearly frustrated. "Great. Orders." He spun on her. "Do any of you think for yourself?"

Phanuel stepped forward, head cocking to one side. She didn't take the offense well. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Castiel move forward and Sam uncross his arms, ready to leap to his brother's defense. Dean was too much like her brother and she was just beginning to realize how much. "Very much so, but you don't disobey orders from the person I get them from, Dean Winchester."

"Oh, right. G-"

"Ah," she stopped him when her hand went up. "I'm not here to quibble about who takes orders from who. After the world ends, then we can discuss it further. You can even bring it up with Michael. I'm sure the two of you would be willing to debate it further with me."

Castiel moved from his guard dog position. "Phanuel is right. If Belair is here then we must deal with him."

"Any idea what he looks like?" Sam asked, eyebrows going up.

"Anyone," Castiel and Phanuel answered him together. They looked at one another, glared and stepped away.

Dean went over to Sam and snatched up one of the bags of fast food. "Great, the Doublemint twins."

"Doublemint twins? I don't'-"

"He's making a joke." Castiel informed her. His tone suggested that he'd experienced this before and wasn't always pleased with it.

Phanuel frowned. "Oh. I see."


	4. Three

**Three: Never turn your back on him**

Dean had suggested that he and Castiel make the rounds in town, inquiring about some of the strange deaths that were happening. Phanuel hadn't liked the plan. She honestly didn't see the point in it all. Her plan had been to set up a trap since it was her that Belair would ultimately be looking for. Simple, direct but the boys had objected. So, Phanuel sat with the youngest Winchester in the motel room. Each of them on the bed, silent. Phanuel didn't know what to say to the boy.

Sam cleared his throat, catching her attention. "You want anything?" It was a hesitant question filled with apprehension mixed with a bit of disgust.

"I don't need anything." Phanuel answered simply, pausing before adding, "Thank you." Silence lapsed over them again before she drew a breath to speak. "It is unfortunate that you are the vessel."

The look he gave her was a confused one. "Uh, thanks."

"I mean, of the two of you, it was you who believed. You prayed and He did hear them. I promise you." She was sure that it didn't matter now, after all that had happened, but for some reason, she felt obligated to tell him. Before it was too late.

"Yeah," scorn was littering his tone, "doesn't seem like it."

The archangel nodded her head, acknowledging his observation, but then she looked at him and watched until she had his eyes. "I need you to find some way to keep faith. If you lose it, you'll become desperate. I… We can't have that, Samuel Winchester. If you become… I will kill you."

Sam furrowed his brows, squaring off to her but not saying anything. Whether he didn't say anything because he believed her or because he was too furious, Phanuel didn't know and admittedly, didn't care. Antsy, she stood and began pacing.

They were silent for the rest of the time until Dean and Castiel returned, dripping wet from the storm that had started outside. Phanuel stopped pacing and faced the two of them, expectantly. She didn't know why she was hopeful, but she was.

"You know what's weird about this town: how much they talk about the Evangelist preacher guy." Dean announced, brushing his hair and tossing water all over.

Her body tensed. "Belair." She whispered the name.

"Woah, wait. The preacher? No, we checked him." Dean shook his head.

Castiel was there to back him up, "We did. I was there."

Phanuel wasn't convinced. "Are you sure? You said there were signs, Castiel."

"You did?" Sam turned on the other angel, a curious expression on his face.

Castiel held the younger Winchester's expression, then looked away. "Yes, but it's the apocalypse."

Phanuel pursed her lips. "You were baiting me."

"No. There were signs of a demon. I did not know it was Belair."

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Signs, Cas?"

"Yes."

This was getting her nowhere. She was all but convinced that the preacher would be Belair. It would be just like him to take over some poor servant of the Lord and force him to witness the horror of what he'd done. The urge to rub the bridge of her nose as Dean had done was almost overwhelmed. "Perhaps I should go…"

"Is that a good idea?" It was Sam, questioning her idea in a way that didn't bother her. It was as if he had practice in the matter. "I mean, if this Belair is looking for you, why go out and ask for it?"

But Sam was right. Phanuel wanted to confront him, avenge her host's loss and fulfill her orders, but going in unprepared, that was amateur. Belair would smell it a mile away and just grin in anticipation. Then it hit her. "Yes."

Dean stared at her like she'd grown an extra head. "What?"

"I would have thought you of all people would see it. A trap. If Belair is searching for me, I will deliver myself. You would be there to watch my back. That is the phrase: watch my back?"

Dean was thinking about it and Sam seemed to reject it. "Yeah, that's the phrase."

"Good. I'll be at the church in one hour." Phanuel told them, leaving them to figure out the details about how they could provide back up for her. She honestly didn't want to involve them. Even if it meant dying. Instead of waiting for a reply, in a blink, she was gone. In the motel room, Dean threw his hands in the air and Sam shook his head.

The church was small with a brick exterior and the typical white pillars at the entrance. Inside, it was modern with electric equipment cluttering up the sanctuary and plain white walls. She longed for the days when the church was unique and beautiful, a work of art dedicated to her Father. Maybe these people of this time thought of all this mess as a work of art, but Phanuel didn't see it. She saw clutter. And emptiness.

She walked down the center aisle, past the ridged wooden pews and toward the man who has his back to her. Next to her arm, flat against the inside of her forearm, was her sword. In the dull lighting, it threatened to gleam brilliant silver, but she held it tight to her small body.

As she neared the figure, she flipped it, blade down. Just as she reached the steps that would take her to the pulpit, the figure turned and she stopped. In his hand was a metal lighter. The smile he gave her was menacing and far too familiar. She tried to turn run, but he dropped the lighter. Phanuel wasn't prepared for _this_ battle.

A trap. It was all a trap. Her brother had trapped her and she'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book. An Evangelist preacher? Phanuel knew better. She was almost ashamed. Once Michael found out… or worse yet, Gabriel, Phanuel would never live it down. Especially since she was putting the vessel in danger.

As the circle of fire blazed around her ankles, Phanuel fumed, her hands balled into fists. He circled her and Phanuel moved with him, determined not to turn her back to her brother. It took all of her self control not to want to claw her way out of the fire that bound her. Without thinking, she even thought to walk through it and came to a grinding halt.

"So angry, baby sister. I'd be careful. It might lead you down those dark roads you're so afraid of." Lucifer stopped in front of her, a smug half smile on his wilting face.

"At least I'm not a dick." She spat the word at him. "Or a coward. Drop the circle and we'll see who comes out on top." Bravado, yes, but even Phanuel spoke words without thinking.

The smug smile turned into a laughing one, as if her suggestion was absurd. "Phan, I practically raised you, trained you. I introduced you to Belair. You think you can take me, little Phan?"

"You don't get to call me that."

He gave a silent and almost pained, 'oh,' that set her afire. He was mocking her! To her face! She might have been younger than Gabriel, but that did not mean he could mock her, not these days. He had no clue how dangerous she was these days.

"Phanuel, you're not as flawless as you claim. You followed me around like a puppy." That sickeningly sweet, brotherly way he was looking at her annoyed her. "You were the one who betrayed me. I asked for your help. You gave your word and then turned around and broke it. That certainly doesn't make you flawless."

Phanuel tried to leap forward but was stopped hard. "I didn't kill my brother!" She screamed it at him. Normally, Phanuel was a rather controlled warrior; she'd learned that from Michael, but with Lucifer? She'd always disregarded politeness. He always knew how to push her buttons and make her see red. It was dangerous; she was aware of that but she didn't care.

Lucifer paused, treading carefully. "Who are we talking about here?"

She couldn't believe it. Did he not remember? Sariel could be annoying, but Sariel actually spoke well of the brother standing in front of her. He couldn't possibly forget. "Sariel."

"Oh yes. Sariel… well, we both know-"

"You've killed another of our brothers?" She cut him off and he looked annoyed that she'd done so. Her hands, balled into fists, began to relax and droop at her sides. The next question she was afraid to ask and terrified to know the answer. Somehow she had a sinking feeling she knew. "Who?"

Lucifer's face, decaying in its vessel, sunk. He looked heartbroken, if that was possible. Though he met her eyes, he didn't look like he wanted to, "Gabriel."

The breath she let out nearly dropped her to the floor. Gabriel. He'd killed Gabriel? The brother she loved the most; the one she thought would outlast all of them, he was dead. And she was looking at his killer. "What have you done?" She whispered. Killing Gabriel wasn't something that the world could take lightly. It was a line she didn't know could be crossed. Without Gabriel…

"Understand, I had to do it," he words came out rushed, "He was fighting for them. Those broken, disgraceful creatures. He put up his sword against me. I had no other choice. "

Phanuel's head came up. "I fight for them!" She shouted it at Lucifer who stood straighter and regarded her slightly different. "Are you going to kill me too?"

His eyes took on that heartbroken look again. "If I must."

She threw her hands to the side. "Then why don't you do it?"

"Phanuel…"

"You've got me in this circle, Lucifer. I can promise you that if you let me out, I will make sure you're dead, if I have to do it myself." She was serious. Subconsciously, she knew that she'd lose if she attempted to fight her brother. Phanuel was good, second to Michael, but she was no match for the brother standing before her.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't make threats that you couldn't keep, Phanuel." His patience was running thin.

Phanuel's jaw clenched and her words came out a low growl, "I swear I'll do it. I swear I'll stand beside Michael and do it."

He stared at her. In that division, between Michael and Lucifer, Phanuel had never chosen a side. She loved them both but she'd loved her Father more and so, let the chips fall. She'd never been asked by her Father to choose between her brothers. Deciding to stand with Michael? Even Phanuel couldn't believe that she actually meant it.

"Phanuel," he was careful with his words, "I am going to do you a favor. I'm going to leave you here in this circle, for your own protection. If you leave this circle; I'll kill you."

Lucifer turned and walked down the center aisle, leaving her in the burning circle. Phanuel watched him until he reached the doors, sure that he would turn around and let her go. The absurdity of her hope didn't register; she still thought of him as her big brother, surely he would leave her to rot during the most important battle of their time? "Brother!" He didn't turn around. "Brother!" The door slammed shut. "Lucifer!"


End file.
